"Like it?"
"Bores me silly," Margaret said.
"Perhaps we can talk some other time?"
"Tomorrow would be swell. I have to go to my place in Juarez early in the morning. Why don't you come out for lunch? It's a two-hour ride by train from San Hermano. I think you can make a train at eleven."
"Tomorrow?" Hall hesitated.
"I wish you'd make it," the girl said with a sudden intensity.
"It's a date."
"I'll meet you at the station."
They joined her father and one of the Embassy secretaries at the bar. Hall had a Cuba Libre, and was introduced to a South American painter. He listened to the painter talk to the Ambassador about the beauties of Arizona, watched J. Burton Skidmore gravely shake hands with the painter and mutter, "Con mucho gusto." Then the painter asked Margaret to dance and, when she left, Hall wandered off to look for Jerry.
He found her at the punch bowl with Ansaldo. "May I ask Miss Olmstead for this dance?" he asked the doctor.